A Fresh Start

Chapter 9

Grace woke up the next morning curled up on the couch in her suite, and with one objective. This had gone on long enough.

She needed to know just what the hell was wrong with Alan Barden, and there was only one person she could think of who could give her the answers she needed. Grace picked up her phone and jabbed her number viciously.

Rachel Smith was going to give her a few answers whether she liked it or not.

Half an hour later, she was waiting for Rachel in the breakfast room. When Rachel walked in, it was obvious that she was tired.

Grace waited until she had walked in and taken a seat across from her.

“Grace. I gather things aren’t going as well as you expected.”

Grace aimed a disbelieving look at Rachel.

“You gather?”

Rachel sighed.

“I know this situation isn’t ideal. But you knew what you were getting into, Grace. What did you expect from this?”

Grace couldn’t quite meet Rachel’s eyes.

“I don’t know. But not this. I can’t reach Alan, not through the walls he has built. When I do, every time I feel like I made some progress, he pushes me farther away. We’re married, Rachel. No matter what the terms of any contract might be, he put a ring on my finger and I’m his wife. I can’t change that. I was raised to respect marriage. I believe in that institution, in commitment. I believe in companionship and affection, even in trust. Even in love.”

When Grace said those words, Rachel softened, just a bit. But she shrugged helplessly.

“Grace, I know that you’re in a difficult position. I knew this would put you in one, which is why I tried my best to be as open about the details as I could possibly be. I was afraid you expected too much, but you seemed so levelheaded about all of it that I thought you understood. Now I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

Grace raised her eyes to Rachel’s, and there was naked longing and inconsolable hurt in those dark depths. Rachel’s heart squeezed in empathy as she looked at the bleakness in Grace’s face.

Impulsively, she leaned forward to cover Grace’s hands with hers.

“Grace, I know this is unfair on you. Trust me, I know. But there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“Help me understand him. Please, do that for me,” begged Grace.

Rachel looked frustrated and torn, but she shook her head.

“I can’t tell you what he won’t tell you, Grace. I know you want to know, but you need to ask him. What kind of foundation would you have if your insight is based on his broken trust? He trusts me. I cannot break that. I think he’s beginning to trust you, just a little bit. But you need to get him to tell you why he has such trouble trusting anybody at all. You need him to talk to you.”

Grace shook her head.

“I’ve tried everything I could think of. But he won’t talk to me. He won’t tell me why every time he gets close to me, it seems to be against his better judgment, almost against his will. He regrets the smallest gesture of trust almost before he makes it. He… he holds himself so aloof from me. I’m his wife. I love him.”

The revelation stunned Grace. She clapped her hands on her mouth and sat there, petrified, with a sausage and a pile of scrambled eggs she hadn’t touched on her plate.

Rachel would’ve found the tableau amusing at any other time.

“I can see that, honey. I see it’s taken you this long to realize it, too. But anybody who saw your face when you walked down that aisle to him could see that you loved him. I hoped that he would see that love and respond to it. Maybe you need to give him more time. He has his reasons for not trusting people, Grace. I won’t blame you if that’s no comfort to you right now, but he does.”

Grace shook her head.

“How does that help me? I hope, every time he looks at me with amusement and affection, that maybe he’ll let me in. That maybe he’ll let me love him. But he doesn’t. He won’t. Every gesture is a mistake. I don’t know what to do.”

Rachel hesitated for just a moment before leaning in towards Grace.

“I will give you one piece of advice, Grace. Don’t give up. Don’t let him defeat both of you. Don’t let his past take away his future and yours. Just don’t give up. You’ll get there. I believe that.”

Grace left that unofficial meeting feeling empty and discouraged. Rachel knew why Alan didn’t want to want her, let alone love her. But she wouldn’t tell Grace why. All her good wishes and all her belief couldn’t help Grace if she wouldn’t let her know what was behind all of it.

Now, she was left with no choice but to talk to Alan. For a fleeting second, Grace considered just calling Violet, getting on a plane and leaving. But no matter how much Alan had hurt her, she couldn’t find any fault in how he had behaved. She had initiated all moments of intimacy between them, intentionally or not. He had made no promises. He had kept what few promises he had made.

She knew that he had already talked to a few people about getting her manuscript read. He’d pointed out that it would make more sense to wait a while, until his tour was over, before doing that. Grace didn’t want to be overshadowed, anyway.

He had never promised her a real marriage. He had only promised her a legal one.

She had that, and now she wanted, more than anything else, his affection, his desire, his love. She wanted to be Alan’s wife.

Grace stood stock still outside her room. Alan wasn’t inside, of course. She knew that. Going inside seemed almost impossible.

They had made love inside that room, on that bed, and it had been wonderful. But only for her. Alan had regretted it the moment it had been done.

But he hadn’t been able to turn away even when he’d known it was a bad idea. He hadn’t been able to erect that wall sturdily enough to keep her out.

That gave her hope. She had to hold on to it.

She also had to talk to him.

That would be painful and unpleasant, but it had to be done. Grace could only hope that he would be willing to tell her the truth.

Taking a deep breath, she made her decision and turned away from her room. Resolutely, she walked over to Alan’s suite and knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

All of that pain turned into a bright, burning hot flash of anger and she curled her hands into fists. She started thumping on the door with all of her might as if she wanted to just break it down.

Alan opened the door soon enough.

“Grace, there’s no need for that,” he said, sounding like a stern primary school teacher.

Grace’s eyes flashed. She was glad. Anger was better than sadness. It was better than sheer misery.

Anger would give her strength.